


Answering the Call

by gildedeggplant



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Cecil POV, Desert Otherworld, Eventual Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex, Science Kink, Staycation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-30 13:21:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3938329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gildedeggplant/pseuds/gildedeggplant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We all have gaps in our memories, right? And at least those recordings took place during roughly the length of time that I thought I had been alive. But now, when I really start thinking about it… I have no idea how long I’ve been alive… or if I even am alive… if I even exist…” Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. “Carlos,” he whispered. “ What am I? ”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Replayed

“Cecil! Oh, honey-voiced honey! You’ll be able to visit! Cecil! Talk soon. I love you.” 

After a quick peek at the photo on the home screen, Cecil turned off his phone and set it on the coffee table. Without the glow of the tiny screen, the room was lit only by the sliver of moonlight that was insinuating its way between the curtains. Cecil sat in his favorite armchair, staring into space, and let the minutes slither uncomfortably by. 

On the floor beside the chair sat a backpack, filled with every item he thought he might need on a fantastic desert otherworld vacation. It basically amounted to his ubiquitous notebook, plus a toothbrush and a change of clothes, because seriously, how do you even prepare for this kind of trip? 

How do you even prepare? 

Well, you very carefully write down the instructions for getting safely into the dog park and you put them in your pocket, obviously, because you want to avoid being painfully, promptly, and permanently annihilated before the journey even begins. But how do you prepare for what comes after that? Seeing - touching! - your boyfriend for the first time in a year? Leaving the town that you love, that has become so strange to you lately that a tiny part of you is not sure you want to come back? 

Cecil wasn’t even sure who he would be outside of Night Vale. There was the trip to Europe, of course, but that felt like it had happened to a different person. A… completely different person. More and more, everything that happened outside of the radio station felt like a dream - one that he could only occasionally recall. Being with Carlos had changed that for a short, beautiful while, but then Carlos had gone away.

So he was going to have to go to Carlos, and he was totally fine with that. Absolutely fine. “I AM ABSOLUTELY FINE,” he announced to the empty room. A couple of weeks back, the Sheriff’s Secret Police, concerned about the unceasing silence emanating from Cecil’s house, had sent out a balaclava-clad officer to check on him. He did not want a repeat visit. 

Sighing, he picked up his phone, scrolled through his voice mails, and hit play again. “Hi sweetie…” 

He sat back to listen, hoping that this time Carlos’s voice would give him the courage to pick up the backpack and walk out the door. 

He would, of course, skip over the most recent message. He was not at all “jazzed” about that one.


	2. The Best of Times?

Cecil wasn’t sure how, in any practical sense, he had gotten into the dog park. He wasn’t even sure he was in the dog park, but it was the most sensible of the available theories (and he felt all fancy and scientific even thinking in terms of theories). The last thing he remembered was standing behind a bush at the edge of the park, glancing furtively back and forth down the street as he muttered an incantation.

And then this: coming slowly back to himself to find that he was standing in the middle of a featureless landscape. Instead of the expected hooded figures and ominous monolith, there was just… nothing. Well, it kind of looked like there was swirling mist, but since it was the same (lack of) color as the rest of the nothing, it was difficult to say for sure.

He didn’t remember anything about the last little while, but that was becoming a familiar sensation.

More importantly, there was nothing indicating which direction to walk. The Faceless Old Woman’s directions only served to get him inside the park; beyond that he was on his own. She had been painfully clear on the subject.

He glanced up to see if there was anything like a sky or stars by which to orient himself, and oh my. There appeared to be a… huge, dark planet… almost close enough to touch… calling to him…

Oh boy. Ok. Not looking up anymore.

Hoisting his backpack (And boy, that brought him back to his old scouting days! He would have to transfer over some of his old patches), he began to walk. His footsteps made no sound at all, and nothing changed. He was glad, not for the first time, that this wasn’t his first time dealing with featureless voids, or this would all be pretty darn creepy. As it was, it was mostly boring, and he’d almost drifted into a sort of trance when he saw something flickering up ahead.

As he approached the whatever-it-was, it resolved into a humanoid figure - taller than him, much _much_ taller, with an impressive set of leathery wings and eyes like the inside of a very old furnace. Cecil felt a knot - part excitement, part fear - in the pit of his stomach. “Mother?! Mother! Oh my gosh, I was so disappointed that I didn’t get to see you at Homecoming, and I don’t know why you’re here, but - oh.“

As he approached her, arms out, she gave him a look of infinite disappointment, shook her head, and turned away. By the time he was close enough to touch her, she was already fading away. Cecil hunched his shoulders, the knot of excitement turning to a familiar disappointment. “Ok. Well. See you next year, I guess,” he said to the space where she had just been.

As he stood for a moment gathering his wits, he saw something else in the void. A red light. A blinking red light, impossibly faint and tiny and high up, as if it was…. as if it was on top of a - ok, fine - a mountain! He began striding towards it, and after several steps his footsteps even began to make a crunching noise, as if he was stepping on sand or gravel, or something else that actually existed.

It seemed like a good sign, until he heard something else. A second set of footsteps, trying very hard to match his own and remain unheard, but not quite succeeding. Having received his Mysterious Footsteps badge at an unusually young age, of course, Cecil performed the recommended action of stopping abruptly, whirling around, and shouting, “Who’s there?”

There was no one. He opened his third eye and looked again and… it didn’t seem to work in this place. Realizing that he was restricted to the knowledge he could glean from his two natural eyes made him feel naked and vulnerable.

He began to walk more quickly towards the red light, which did not appear to be getting any closer. The other footsteps sped up as well. They, and whatever was making them, were getting closer. Cecil began to run, but as the footsteps gained on him, he began to hear a voice in his head, just barely discernible.

_“...said that they were immediately proceeding to found a town. A town they will call Night Vale…”_

Wait. Not _a_ voice. It was _his_ voice. He hadn’t been around for the founding of the… had he? He felt the familiar buzzing that filled his head whenever he thought too hard about the past.

_“...everyone is here, and everyone is having a blast. Even little Josie Ortiz…”_

_“...of course, a war in Europe and the Pacific, and all around the world. We ourselves have been attacked…”_

Cecil covered his ears with his hands, let go of his dignity, and fled for his life. He ran, yelping like a starving wolf pup, towards the red light... and underneath his fright, behind the voice in his head, he thought he heard laughing. A vaguely familiar, cheerful,  _terrifying_ kind of laugh.

He ran until his muscles began to twitch and finally gave out. In a last attempt at self-preservation, he hurled himself to the ground and curled up in a tight, quivering ball.

He flinched as he felt a hand take hold of his shoulder.


	3. Just Cecil

“Cecil? Honey, can you hear me?” 

Cecil drifted unwillingly back towards consciousness, dragged by the sound of his own name. He opened his eyes a slit to find that he was still curled in a ball in the sand, and there was a hand on his shoulder.  There was a hand on his shoulder. THERE WAS A - 

He yelped in panic, scrabbling backwards and stumbling to his feet, palms up in the universal gesture for “please don’t hurt me.” 

As he glanced back and forth, braced for the next horror, he began to take in his surroundings. He was crouched amid a group of impossibly tall, masked people. And standing across from him, looking stricken and confused, was… oh god. 

“Carlos.” It came out as a pathetic, ragged whisper. Clearing his throat, he tried again. “Carlos!” This time it was almost a sob, laden with all of the uncertainty and loneliness of the past year, plus whatever the hell had happened to him in the past twelve hours. 

Carlos took a tentative step towards him, holding out one hand as if soothing a frightened animal. “Cecil…?” He took another step. “Can I…?”

Biting down hard on his lip to keep from crying, Cecil could only nod. And then Carlos was crossing the little space between them, wrapping him in strong, familiar arms. He smelled like creosote and musk and home and, oh god, Cecil couldn’t help himself. He buried his face against that dearest, most perfect of shoulders and sobbed. 

Carlos pulled him closer, shielding him from the curious eyes of the masked army. “Oh my god, honey… baby… what  happened  to you? You feel so thin! And you’re, Jesus, you’re shaking all over.” 

“Please, just take me home. Please, Carlos.” 

“Ok. Shh… ok. Come on.” Keeping one arm wrapped securely around his waist, Carlos half-carried him towards the circle of masked warriors, who silently stepped aside to let them through. In some far-off part of his brain, Cecil knew he should probably be mortified. He, Cecil Gerschwin Palmer, the Voice of Night Vale, never fell apart in public like this. 

Here and now though, he couldn’t find the energy to care. Here he was just Cecil. He was going home with the person he loved most in the world, and maybe everything was going to be ok.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut next time. I promise.


	4. I'll Examine Every Inch of You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos takes Cecil's pulse, and Cecil likes it.

Carlos kicked the door closed behind them and tossed the backpack into a corner, seemingly unwilling to take his eyes off of Cecil. “Ok. First, we need to get some food into you. Then you can tell me what the happened to you on the way here. Then maybe some tests...” He turned towards a small kitchen, tugging Cecil by the wrist.

Cecil didn’t move. “Carlos,” he said. It seemed to be just about all he was capable of saying today, but something in his tone halted his boyfriend’s fretful monologue. Carlos turned around, and the concern in his warm brown eyes melted Cecil, absolutely melted him like a golden idol under the gaze of a jealous god.

Cupping his boyfriend’s face in his own trembling hands, Cecil leaned in to kiss him, just once. Just gently. The scientist’s eyes fluttered shut and Cecil heard a gratifying sigh escape from from between his slightly chapped lips.

But a moment later he was all business again. “Ok, forget food. We need to warm you up. Your hands are freezing, and I don’t even know how that’s possible in this place. Then I want to run some tests on you - I’m a scientist and not a doctor, of course, but I should be able to at least check your vital signs... “

This time Cecil allowed himself to be led into a surprisingly spacious bathroom, equipped with a bathtub bigger than anything he’d seen in Night Vale. Carlos turned on the tap and, while the tub filled, gently peeled off Cecil’s torn and sandy clothing. Cecil, in turn, obediently allowed himself to be undressed, drifting into a reverie as Carlos examined his various parts with the penetrating gaze he used when he was Doing Science. He didn’t seem to notice the effect his investigation was having on Cecil, who felt himself getting harder with each “hmm” and “I see...”

Carlos ended by taking Cecil’s pulse: pressing two fingers firmly against the sensitive skin on the inner wrist and frowning at his wrist watch. Cecil was perilously close to losing control, but his darling boyfriend was still oblivious. “Huh. Your heart rate is really elevated,” he observed.

“Obviously,” Cecil intoned.

Carlos glanced up in surprise. “Hmm?”

“Of course it is, you brilliant idiot. You’re touching me. You’re - “ his voice broke slightly. “After a year of voice mail and snap chats, you’re actually _touching_ me.” He swallowed. “And, um. You’re being all sciencey.”

Seeing that the bathtub was about to overflow, Carlos quickly turned around to shut off the tap. Cecil took the opportunity to wrap himself around the scientist from behind, pressing his bare skin against the (rather well-worn) lab coat. “God, I’ve missed you. My perfect Carlos,” he sighed, rubbing his cheek against the mass of gloriously unkempt curls tumbling over his boyfriend’s collar.

But instead of returning his affections, Carlos was attempting to extricate himself from the web of adoring limbs. “Listen, Ceec…”

Cecil froze, suddenly mortified. “Oh my god. Are you not - are we not - “

Carlos spun around to face him then, looking well and truly horrified. “What?! No! God, no. I love you, I love you, _I love you_. I’m so sorry - I should have said that right away. I’m just… I’m really worried about you. You seem… not ok. I wasn’t sure you’d want to - that we should - “

Pulling him close, Cecil cut his babbling short with a kiss - still gentle, but deep this time. He ran his tongue over the rows of gorgeous teeth and felt the other man melt into his arms. After several moments, he broke away. “Darling, darling Carlos. I propose a compromise. Would you care to bathe with me?”

Carlos nodded, and now Cecil could see the need in his eyes. “Yes, ok. But hurry up and get in! Your core temperature is probably dropping.”

Cecil smirked, feeling, for the first time in weeks, something like his old self again. “On the contrary, Mr. Scientist,” he purred. “I can assure you that it is not."


	5. Lilacs and Thunder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rub a dub dub, a radio host and a scientist in the tub.

Two minutes later Cecil was nestled in his boyfriend’s arms, suspended in warm, slightly tingly liquid. That latter bit was kind of odd; he hadn’t thought to ask about the peculiarities of desert otherworld plumbing, and it was entirely possible that this bathtub was filled with something other than water. On reflection, he found that it didn’t really matter. He could be floating in human blood (lords knew it wouldn’t be the first time) for all he cared, as long as he could still lean his head back against his Carlos.

Only he kept… floating away? Every time Carlos’s hold slackened, he bobbed up to the surface like a cork.

The third time it happened, Carlos suppressed a giggle. “Um, Cecil? Are Night-Valians more buoyant than other people? Is this something I need to investigate?”

Cecil grinned, tilting his head head backward to look him in the (upside down) eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve never been swimming!” But wait - had he? The thought dropped into his mind, crushing any sense of frivolity beneath its undeniable weight: he had absolutely no idea what he had done, ever. He tried to blink away the tears that sprang to the corners of his eyes, but it was like trying to hold back the street cleaners. He curled into himself, shaking with the sudden force of his sorrow and fear.

The arms tightened around his waist. “Cecil? Baby? Are you…?”

Cecil responded by abruptly  twisting around and straddling Carlos, burying his hands in the unruly hair, and kissing him with the ferocity of a frustrated succubus.

Carlos gently but firmly took hold of his wrists and held him at arm’s length. “Wait. I don’t think you’re in the right place for this. You’re all messed up, and I don’t want you to regret anything.”

Breathing hard, Cecil struggled to control himself. “Do you want this?”

“Of _course_. But - “

“Then, pardon my rudeness, but… shut up. Please. I would never, ever persuade you to do something you don’t wish to do. But if you’re hesitating on my account, then just know this: yes, I am… messed up right now. But the only thing I will regret in this lifetime, if it is indeed a lifetime, is every moment I spent not touching your skin. So shut up and fuck me. Please. _Now_.”  He punctuated his request by wrapping his legs around the scientist’s waist and grinding. Hard.

A sliver of doubt remained in Carlos’s eyes, but it was rapidly overtaken by lust as he surrendered to the persuasive radio host, who seemed to be all long limbs and desire and… was he emitting a slight scent of lilac? That was new.

Then they were clinging together, splashing suds and liquid in all direction as they struggled to align the appropriate body parts in the confined space. After a few awkward minutes of this, Carlos put a palm against his chest. “Baby… hang on…”

Cecil grabbed that hand by the wrist and draw one finger into his mouth, scraping his sharp teeth down the length of it as he looked down at Carlos through the violet haze that overtook his vision at such moments. “Mmf?”

“Oh god… um…” Carlos struggled to focus. “T-turn around. We’re never going to get anywhere in this position. And… I want to take care of you this time.”

“Oh, _Carlos_. Of _course_.” Letting out a deep, twitterpated sigh, Cecil obediently rearranged himself, settling back into their original position. He immediately began to float away again, but Carlos recaptured him, holding him in place with one arm. With the other hand, he began to - slowly and gently - stroke Cecil’s cock. And - oh! - this water - liquid? - was not only tingly, but also somehow viscous. Everything felt wonderfully warm and slippery. Cecil could only whimper, letting his head fall back onto his boyfriend’s shoulder.

Carlos leaned forward and bit gently down on his earlobe, murmuring endearments. “Baby, baby, I’ve missed you so much, I can’t even tell you, every cell in my body, every neuron… synapses… dendrites… baby, Cecil, love…”

He was stroking faster now, using his other arm to rub Cecil’s ass against his own cock. Cecil, for once, was beyond the realm of language, head thrown back, caught between the maddening dual stimuli. With all of this, and a year apart, he wasn't going to be able to last long at all.

With a ragged cry he came, and the air was filled with the scent of lilac and the sound of distant thunder. Carlos held him close and whispered love into his ear as he passed through a series of gorgeous aftershocks. When he was able to speak again, he turned his head and smiled what felt like one of the dopier smiles he'd produced in however long he’d been alive. “Wow,” he breathed. “That… was neat.”

Carlos planted a damp kiss on the tip of his nose. “Let’s get you dried off.”

“But you didn’t…”

“Later. Right now, I’m going to make you some cinnamon toast.” He flashed a wicked grin. “Cinnamon _wheat_ toast.”

Cecil gasped, genuinely scandalized. “But we can’t!”

“Honey bunny, in case you hadn’t noticed, we are not in Night Vale anymore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Incidentally, if any visual artists are feeling inspired, I would love to see a picture of these guys in the bathtub.


	6. Becoming Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carlos makes Cecil feel better. With sex. And wheat products. And words. And sex.

Cecil sat with his hands folded in the lap of his borrowed bathrobe, staring down at the forbidden breakfast item occupying the plate in front of him. “Thank you. It… smells very good.” He scooted his chair a few inches away from the table.

Across from him, Carlos sighed and rolled his eyes. “It’s not going to bite you, Ceec.”

“Are you sure? I mean, scientifically speaking?”

Another sigh. “Come on. Do I need to feed it to you?”

Cecil felt a blush rising in his cheeks at the thought, but that didn’t stop him from giving Carlos his very best “poor little lost Night Vale boy” pout, along with a tiny nod.

“All right.” Carlos patted his lap. “Come here.”

Cecil practically leaped across the table into the lap of the scientist, who picked up a slice of the warm, buttery wheat product and held it up to his boyfriend’s mouth. He took a tiny, suspicious bite, followed by a much bigger and more enthusiastic one. “Oh, wow! That’s actually very tasty!” He grabbed the other slice from the plate and finished it off.

“Of course it is. You should trust me - I’m a scientist. I know these things.” Carlos tilted his head up and licked a bit of butter and cinnamon from the corner of Cecil’s mouth. Then his expression turned serious. “Now… can you tell me what happened out there? On your way here?”

 _No_ , Cecil thought. _I can’t_. He shook his head, shivering despite the heat of the day.

“Baby, please. I need to know, so I can fix it.”

Cecil closed his eyes, nodding slowly. “Ok… ok, I’ll try. So, at first everything seemed all right. Formless void, manifestations of my long-dead relatives, blah blah blah. But then someone else was there with me. They were following me. They - he - put voices in my head. My own voice. And…” He swallowed. “And I was talking about things I couldn’t have seen. Things that happened hundreds of years ago. Before radio. Before Night Vale existed! I don’t remember any of that, Carlos. I don’t remember anything.”

Carlos held him tighter. “Well, that’s not so bad. I mean… it’s weird and maybe a little scary, but you didn’t remember recording any of those old tapes either, right?”

“Right, but that’s normal. Well, normal-ish. We all have gaps in our memories, right? And at least those recordings took place during roughly the length of time that I thought I had been alive. But now, when I really start thinking about it… I have no idea how long I’ve been alive… or if I even am alive… if I even exist…” Tears were streaming down his cheeks now. “Carlos,” he whispered. “ _What am I_?”

Reaching up with a calloused thumb, Carlos brushed the tears away. “Shh… it’s ok…” Cecil clung to Carlos like a sad koala, and Carlos rocked him and murmured comforting nonsense as he applied his considerable intellectual capacity to the problem. Suddenly he brightened. “Hey, you silly goose! Did you forget what I am?”

“M-my perfectly imperfect boyfriend?”

“So you say. But also: A SCIENTIST!” Carlos planted a kiss on his forehead. “And I could hardly call myself a scientist if I couldn’t figure out whether something - or someone  - exists. So let’s run some tests.”

He stood up, scooping Cecil into his arms. “Aha! You have… weight! Which indicates… mass! But what about volume. Hmm…” Carrying Cecil into the bedroom, he dumped him unceremoniously onto the bed. “Having shared a bed with you on several occasions, Mr. Palmer, I am able to conclude that, yes! You take up space!”

Cecil managed a watery smile. “That’s true.”

“Seriously, bunnykins. Of course you exist. Existence is weird and difficult to prove, and Night Vale is scientifically strange, but at some point you have to trust the evidence provided by your own senses. And I see you...” He climbed onto the bed and wrapped his arms around Cecil. “Feel you…” He buried his face in Cecil’s neck. “Smell you…” Ran his tongue along Cecil’s collar bone. “Taste you…” Cecil let out an embarrassing squeak. “And yes, most importantly: hear you! Does that… mmm… does that make you feel better?”

“Mmm… yes… that feels _very_ nice…” 

Carlos licked lower, opening Cecil’s robe and pausing to draw a sensitive nipple into his mouth and then continuing down, tonguing one delicate pelvic bone and then the other. He ended at Cecil’s cock - already hard - the tip of which he drew briefly into his mouth. Then he licked up and down the shaft several times, slowly and deliberately, until Cecil thought he was going to float right off the bed.

“Oh... my god… that is _so good_... but… wait.” Cecil wiggled his legs out from under the other man’s arms and drew them in towards his chest. He felt suddenly shy. He wasn't used to being the vulnerable one. “I... want you inside me. Do you want to...? Can we…?”

Carlos's eyes were filled with love and desire as he looked up at Cecil. “Oh, honey. Like you even need to ask.” He propped a pillow under Cecil's hips, scraping his fingernails along them as he did so and making the other man shiver in anticipation. Then he reached under the bed for a bottle of lube, applied it liberally to his hands and began to probe Cecil's entry gently with one hand, stroking his cock with the other. Cecil surrendered to the sensations, biting his lower lip and letting out moans and endearments with each new wave of pleasure. Before long, Carlos was inserting one finger, then another and another. When he asked, “Are ready for me, baby?” Cecil could only nod.

Carlos gently hooked Cecil’s legs over his own shoulders and began to push. “Oh god," he sighed. "I _missed_ you… you feel so good…” It didn’t take long until he was completely inside. He began to move, slowly at first, as he leaned down and kissed his boyfriend with all the pent-up passion of twelve months apart. Cecil sucked Carlos's tongue into his mouth and moved against him, feeling totally safe, completely loved, and utterly lost in sensuality.

Before long Carlos was coming deep inside him, moaning into his mouth as he did so. Afterwards, they just lay that way for several minutes, watching the shadows dance along the walls, entwined and satisfied.

Then Carlos rolled over, propping his head on one hand. There was a strange sadness in his eyes. “Cecil, how can you ask me if you’re real,” he whispered. “How can you ask me you who are? You’re the one who always makes me feel safe in scary places - the one who makes even the strangest things seem beautiful. You’re the one who waited for me when I was scared and awkward and didn’t know what to do with all of your admiration. You’re the one who always supports my scientific pursuits, even if it means being apart for, god, _way_ too long. And, finally, you’re the one who makes me _forget about science_ once in a while, and remember that there are even more amazing things in the world.”

Tears were leaking out of Cecil’s eyes and onto the pillow again. “R-really?” He could tell that his voice was all quavery, but he didn’t even care.

“Really. You are my very own Cecil Gershwin Palmer, and that is an extraordinary thing to be.” He planted a gentle kiss on each eyelid. “Don’t ever forget it.” His expression darkened. “And we will find whoever is messing with your head, and then we will _deal with them_. Ok?”

“Ok.” They stared solemnly at one another until Cecil couldn’t take it anymore and had to break the tension. He flashed his most charming smile. “But first… can we have some more cinnamon toast?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, some notes.... 
> 
> 1\. No, they don't have safe sex. They've been in a committed relationship for two years, and I assume they've undergone whatever STD testing is even offered in Night Vale. 
> 
> 2\. No, they don't solve the issue of who or what was fucking with Cecil between worlds. This was really more about the emotional arc. And the smut, of course. 
> 
> 3\. If you stuck with it this long, thanks so much for reading. This is by far the most involved bit of fanfic I've ever written, and I super appreciate those who are giving it a chance.


End file.
